There is one thing, easily discernible in the life of Brainerd, which by many may be considered an objection to the extraordinary evidences of his religion and devotion, viz. that he was, by his constitution and natural temper, so prone to melancholy and dejection of Spirit. There are some who think that all religion is a melancholy thing; and that what is called Christian experience is little else beside melancholy, disturbing the brain, and exciting enthusiastic imaginations. But that Brainerd’s temper or constitution inclined him to despondency, is no just ground for supposing that his extraordinary devotion was only the fruit of a warm imagination. Notwithstanding this inclination to despondency, he was evidently one of those who usually are the farthest from a teeming imagination; being of a penetrating genius, of clear thought, of close reasoning, and a very exact judgment; as was apparent to all who knew him. As he had a great insight into human nature, and was very discerning and judicious in general; so he excelled in his judgment and knowledge in divinity, but especially in experimental religion. He most accurately distinguished between real, solid piety, and enthusiasm; between those affections that are rational and scriptural, having their foundation in light and judgment, and those that are founded in whimsical conceits, strong impressions on the imagination, and vehement emotions of the animal spirits. He was exceedingly sensible of men’s exposure to these things; how extensively they had prevailed, and what multitudes had been deceived by them; of their pernicious consequences, and the fearful mischief they had done in the Christian world. He had no confidence in such a religion, and was abundant in bearing testimony against it, livingit, living and dying; and was quick to discern when any thing of that nature arose, though in its first buddings, and appearing under the most fair and plausible disguises. He had a talent, which I scarcely ever knew equalled, for describing the various workings of this imaginary enthusiastic religion, evincing its falseness and vanity, and demonstrating the great difference between this and true spiritual devotion.

His judiciousness did not only appear in distinguishing among the experiences of others, but also among the various exercises of his own mind; particularly in discerning what within himself was to be laid to the score of melancholy; in which he exceeded all melancholy persons that ever I was acquainted with. This was doubtless owing to a peculiar strength in his judgment; for it is a rare thing indeed, that persons under the influence of melancholy are sensible of their own disease, and convinced that such things are to be ascribed to it, as are its genuine operations and fruits. Brainerd did not obtain that degree of skill at once, but gradually; as the reader may discern by the following account of his life. In the former part of his religious course, he imputed much of that kind of gloominess of mind to spiritual desertion, which in the latter part of his life he was abundantly sensible was owing to the disease of melancholy; accordingly he often expressly speaks of it in his diary, as arising from this cause. He often in conversation spoke of the difference between melancholy and godly sorrow; between true humiliation and spiritual desertion; and the great danger of mistaking the one for the other, and the very hurtful nature of melancholy; discoursing with great judgment upon it, and doubtless much more judiciously for what he knew by his own experience.

Another imperfection in Brainerd, which may be observed in the following account of his life, was his being excessive in his labors; not taking due care to proportion his fatigues to his strength. Indeed, the seeming calls of Providence were very often such as made it extremely difficult for him to avoid laboring beyond his strength; yea, his circumstances, and the business of his mission among the Indians, were such, that great fatigues and hardships were altogether inevitable. However, he was finally convinced that he had erred in this matter, and that he ought to have taken more thorough care, and been more resolute to withstand temptations to such degrees of labor as injured his health; and accordingly he warned his brother, who succeeded him in his mission, to be careful to avoid this error.

Besides the imperfections already mentioned, it is readily allowed that there were some imperfections which ran through his whole life, and were mixed with all his religious affections and exercises; some mixture of what was natural, with that which was spiritual; as it evermore is in the best saints in this world. Doubtless, natural temper had some influence in the religious exercises of Brainerd, as it most apparently had in those of the devout David, and the Apostles Peter, John, and Paul. There was undoubtedly very often some mixture of melancholy with true godly sorrow and real Christian humility; some mixture of the natural fire of youth, with his holy zeal for God; and some influence of natural principles, mixed with grace in various other respects, as it ever was and ever will be with the saints, while on this side heaven. Perhaps none were more sensible of Brainerd’s imperfections than himself; or could distinguish more accurately than he, between what was natural and what was spiritual. It is easy for the judicious reader to observe that his graces ripened, that the religious exercises of his heart became more and more pure, and he more and more distinguishing in his judgment, the longer he lived. He had much to teach and purify him, and he failed not to profit thereby.

Notwithstanding all these imperfections, every pious and judicious reader will readily acknowledge that what is here set before him is a remarkable instance of true and eminent piety, in heart and practice—tending greatly to confirm the reality of vital religion, and the power of godliness; that it is most worthy of imitation, and in many ways calculated to promote the spiritual benefit of the careful observer.

The reader should be aware that what Brainerd wrote in his diary, out of which the following account of his life is chiefly taken, was written only for his own private use; and not to obtain honor and applause in the world, nor with any design that the world should ever see it, either while he lived, or after his death; except a few things which he wrote in a dying state, after he had been persuaded, with difficulty, not entirely to suppress all his private writings. He showed himself almost invincibly averse to the publishing of any part of his diary after his death; and when he was thought to be dying at Boston, gave the most strict, peremptory orders to the contrary. But being by some of his friends there, prevailed upon to withdraw so strict and absolute a prohibition, he was finally pleased to yield so far, as that “his papers should be left in my hands, that I might dispose of them as I thought would be most for God’s glory and the interest of religion.”